


At Home in Your Quiet

by Llyon



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llyon/pseuds/Llyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A (not-so-distant) future fic. Kurt returns to New York City after attending his father's funeral. When he left, his relationship with Jane was strained. Now he needs to clear the air. He's surprised by what he finds at Jane's safe house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is another fanfic to apologize for.
> 
> I really am very sorry. It seems there is some pathological condition that I am suffering from (or I am enjoying, but am making you suffer through) and there is no known cure. I should be finishing up the last two chapters for my other, unfinished fic. As you can see, “should” and “are” are two different things today.
> 
> This is a (not-so-distant) future fic and it is likely that the cupcakes are OOC. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Also, I own nothing. This is just for fun. Please do not sue.

Kurt Weller was grateful to be back in New York City after a week away. Returning to Pennsylvania for Bill Weller’s funeral left him empty, cold, and so damn tired. He took some comfort from the fact that he managed to reconcile with the man in the weeks before his death – only after Sarah meddled and Jane made him think about stubbornness, forgiveness, and how the mistakes that people make shouldn’t necessarily define them.

Jane. He was going to have to mend some fences there. From the moment Sarah called to tell him that their dad was dead, Kurt shut Jane out. He’d pushed everyone away, but it affected Jane the most. Now that he was back, he knew he needed to find a way to apologize for…well…everything. There were the things he hadn’t said but wanted to, and the things he had said and wished – desperately – that he could take back. Worst of all, there was the way he’d put physical distance between them because he knew that if she touched him, even something as simple as a comforting hand on his shoulder, he would break down, and he’d never find a way to put himself back together.

She deserved to hear that he was sorry for all of it. None of it was her fault, but she’d been an easy target.

It was already after seven. There was no real point in going into the office now – he would reconnect with the team tomorrow. He wanted to fall into bed and let sleep shield him from the thoughts that whirled around and around in his brain. If the past week had taught him anything though, it was that the night would last an eternity. He’d get no real rest unless he cleared the air with Jane. Still, he dawdled – taking much longer than necessary in the shower, unpacking his bags, and starting a load of laundry. He’d almost convinced himself to wait until the load was ready to be moved to the dryer before he made his way to the safe house, but he needed to man up and get it over with.

The drive to Jane’s place took no time at all.

Agents were stationed outside Jane’s door, so Kurt knew that she was home. It was a shock to see Zapata open the door when he knocked. She was on her phone and looked irritated. She waved him in, but continued her conversation. “Yeah, well, your memory sucks.” she snapped. She tapped Weller on the shoulder and pointed at Jane’s bedroom. “Go ahead. Tell me all the things on the list that you left behind,” she dared. After a pause she added, “I could, but you don’t deserve to have things made that easy for you.”

Kurt hoped that whatever he found in the bedroom would clear up the sudden swamp of confusion he was wading through. The door was open a crack. He guessed that, based on the dim glow coming from the room, that a single lamp set on its lowest setting lit the space. He could hear music playing quietly and the murmur of Jane’s voice. He pushed the door open and froze at the sight that greeted him.

There was Jane. She stood with her back to the door, swaying slowly to Nat “King” Cole singing “Unforgettable.” The sight of her warmed the cold places that had frozen over the moment he’d learned of his father’s death.

The real punch to the gut was the sight of her holding a baby. With the door open, he could hear her words clearly, despite how quietly she spoke. “I know, little man.” She commiserated with the child, who whimpered a little. “You have a woe.” She placed a soft kiss on the baby’s dark hair before resting her cheek on the top of his head for a long moment. “It’s rough.” She moved her feet in a slow box step to the music. “You are being stubborn, though,” she told him kindly. “You know you’re tired. Why not try closing your eyes, hmmm?” She shifted just enough for Kurt to see that she was rubbing gentle circles on the boy’s back. “You can lean against me.” Her voice was soft and reassuring. “Just lay your head down and close your eyes,” she crooned. A chubby hand came up as the kid rubbed at his left eye before he popped two fingers into his mouth and started sucking. “It’s okay, big guy.” Jane was saying. “I got you, and it’s time to rest now.”

Kurt fought against the wave of affection washing over him at the sight of her, afraid that he would drown in the warmth. He tried to ignore the thought that was shouting at him – that he would sell his soul to trade places with the baby in her arms. If Jane was telling _him_ to lean against her, to close his eyes, to rest, he’d do it. He was aching with exhaustion, and Jane – as far across the room as she was from him – was soothing hurts that he’d been ignoring all week.

“Jane.”

He hadn’t meant to say her name, but it came out low and gentle. She immediately stiffened and spun to face him, the surprise on her face melting into a delighted smile. That didn’t last, though. Clearly, she hadn’t forgotten their last conversation. His shoulders slumped as wariness shuttered her eyes and tightened her jaw.

She noticed the defeat in his stance and immediately softened. In that funny swaying gait that he remembered Sarah using to soothe Sawyer when he was an infant, Jane made her way over to him. Was that something that women learned in some secret back room, or was it all instinct?

When she was less than an arm’s length away, Jane stopped and studied him. She took in his tired posture, the downturned lips, and the dark smudges under his eyes. The wariness was replaced by sadness, now, and it made Kurt’s stomach hurt, knowing that he was the cause of her dismay.

Jane shook her head at him. “Kurt,” she sighed. “Sit down.” She jerked her head towards the bed, and he obeyed.

Once he had settled gingerly on the edge of the mattress, she started talking again. “You may as well get comfortable.” She sounded stern.

He looked at his feet, then glanced at the bed, and caught a glimpse of Jane rolling her eyes. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with Zapata.

“It’s fine. Take your shoes off, leave them on, it's fine. Just…be comfortable.”

Easier said than done, at this particular moment, but he tried to accommodate her request. He toed off his shoes and soon he was reclined on her bed. While he was settling in, Jane turned off the music coming from her phone. She still rocked the child in her arms, but the kid was three quarters of the way asleep. She could probably put him down in the pack-n-play that was tucked between her bed and the window.

“One of my tattoos led us to an adoption agency.” Jane was saying. “There was a nursery with five kids between 3 months and two years. We probably wouldn’t have found anything – not without a warrant, anyway – except one of the employees panicked and tried to escape with this one.” She patted the baby’s back gently.

“Why him?” Kurt asked the obvious question. He felt immeasurably soothed by focusing on a case rather than everything that felt wrong between him and Jane. He would bet his pension that Jane knew it, too. That, rather than holding their shouting match against him; she was doing what she could to help settle him.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Because that employee tried to run, we were able to argue for a warrant. Patterson’s team is reviewing all the files. The other four kids had a rich paper trail. It was pretty easy to determine where they had come from and where they were going to, but him.” Again, Jane softly patted the now slumbering child. “There wasn’t anything on him.”

“Where are the others now?” Kurt found himself sinking a bit further down, until his head was resting on Jane’s pillow. He was breathing in slowly, slowly, savoring how the scent of Jane embraced him.

“The others are in emergency foster care.” Now Jane walked deliberately to the pack-n-play and leaned over to settle the baby into his makeshift bed. She straightened up and sat next to Kurt. She was still talking as she reached out to hold his hand. “We had all the kids checked out at St. Paul’s, and that’s when someone tried to abduct our boy again. She was impersonating a nurse, but when Reade went to stop her, to find out where she was going to take him, she pulled a gun and started shooting.”

“So, you decided it was better if the kid came to stay with you.” Weller concluded. He absently ran his thumb over the knuckles on Jane’s hand. His eyes were at half-mast, though he tried to keep them open. At least all those whirling thoughts had quieted down. “I missed you, Jane.”

“You’re an idiot, Weller.” Jane complained softly. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead, taking the sting out of her accusation. “You didn’t have to miss me,” Jane said as she straightened up.

Kurt cracked open his eyes in sleepy confusion. He wasn’t sure how or when his eyes had closed. That didn’t matter, though. Not as much as trying to understand her last statement.

In fond exasperation, Jane added, “I meant it when I told you that all you had to do was ask. I’d be there for you.”

Kurt grunted his understanding. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment. Then he’d get up and see what other intel they had on this case.

He didn’t feel Jane remove her hand some five minutes later. He didn’t feel her drape the blanket over him. And he didn’t hear her whisper affectionately before she left the room, “such an idiot.”


	2. Entr'acte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The telephone conversation between Reade and Zapata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be completely honest, I’ve been giggling over the thought of this unlikely installment on and off for the past 24 hours.

“Damn, woman, stop your nagging.” Reade whined. “I just wanted to check on the size of the diapers we need.”

“ _If you’d brought the list with you, you wouldn’t have to check._ ”

Reade wondered if Tash was deliberately drawing out the conversation to torture him. “There were, what, five things on the list? I’m a highly trained special agent. I think I can remember five things.”

“ _There are nine things on the list,_ ” Zapata corrected him, clearly miffed, “ _and you obviously are struggling to remember even five of them._ ”

“Nine?” He wanted to confirm. “I would have remembered if there were that many things we needed.” He heard the doorbell ring in the background and the sound of her heels clacking on the hardwood floors.

“ _Yeah, well, your memory sucks,_ ” she snapped.

“Ouch. That’s a little harsh.” Reade protested.

“ _Go ahead_ ,” she dared him. “ _Tell me all the things on the list that you left behind._ ”

“Or you could go ahead and just text me the list,” he suggested.

“ _I could,_ ” she agreed, not sounding at all agreeable, “ _but you don’t deserve to have things made that easy for you._ ”

“Look,” Reade tried to sound reasonable. “Zapata, I don’t want to be here all night. Just text me the damn list.”

“ _Fine._ ” Her quick capitulation surprised him. Before he could ask about her 180, she lowered her voice and murmured, “ _Weller just came in._ ” 

“Weller? Did you tell him we were going to be at Jane’s?”

“ _Of course not. He’s not supposed to be back at work until tomorrow._ ” Tasha paused before asking, “ _do you think Jane let him know?_ ”

Well, it hadn’t been Reade, and Zapata just denied keeping Kurt in the loop. “If anyone did, I suppose it would have to be her.” It didn’t feel right to him, though. “I don’t know.” He confessed. “After the way he left? I can’t see her reaching out to him. She probably wouldn’t want to have her head bitten off again.”

“ _He looks like hell,_ ” Zapata mused.

“The man just lost his father. Of course he looks like hell.”

“ _That’s not what I meant. It’s that,_ ” she paused, trying to frame her argument properly. _Well, who do you run to when you feel like hell?_ ”

“You think he came over to Jane’s because he couldn’t stay away?” Tasha had a point. Weller had spent a week out of the office – a minor miracle. More than that, he’d spent a week without Jane’s company. Since the two were practically joined at the hip since she woke up in Times Square, it wasn’t hard to believe that the first thing Kurt would do once he got back to the city would be to stop by to see Jane.

 _“I think he came over to apologize._ ” Zapata sounded smug, and Reade couldn’t tell if she knew something he didn’t or if she was simply imagining Weller groveling, begging for forgiveness.

“He never apologizes to us,” Reade joked. “I feel a little hurt.”

Zapata snorted a laugh. “ _Do you think they will ever get their act together,_ ” she sighed?

“With Weller leading? Hell, we’ll be lucky to see any Jeller action this decade. Maybe even this century.”

“ _Jeller? What the hell…oh, my god, Reade. Do you have a shipper name for them?_ ”

“What? Patterson started it.”

“ _Ooh! They’re talking. I’ll text you the list. Bye!_ ”

“Wait! Text me if anything happens.”

“ _Jesus, you are such a girl._ ”

“Hey, I just want to know if Jane starts throwing dishes at his head. Maybe I should pick up a first aid kit so we can patch up what’s left of Weller when Jane is through with him.”

“ _Good-bye, Reade._ ”

“See you soon, Zapata.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weller finally manages to have that talk with Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pleased to present the final chapter. There is, perhaps, less nonsense than chapter 2, but much more of our beloved cupcakes.
> 
> After last night's episode (S1E10...Oh My GAH!), I feel ashamed to be posting this. The Jeller moments were incredible! Beautiful! This doesn't even come close. But, this story deserves an ending, so there you are.

It turned out to be a surprisingly decent day.

Oh, he and Jane hadn't _talked_ yet. At least, they hadn't talked about their week-old argument. So, that was still hanging over his head.

Still, the day had started out in an unusually pleasant way.

_Kurt eased into consciousness, cataloging a myriad of sensations that weren't quite right. None of them seemed **bad** per se, just unfamiliar or out of place. A ray of early morning light slanted over his face. He might have forgotten to pull the blinds in his bedroom closed, but he couldn't remember opening them in the first place. The pillow that his face pressed into was thinner than he remembered his own being, and the fabric of the sheets seemed coarser, but the smell was Jane's. That helped to clear up a lot of his confusion._

_Weller squinted around the room to confirm his suspicions. He remembered talking with Jane, of closing his eyes for just a moment. Clearly, that moment had turned into hours. He'd slept the night through - something he hadn't done easily in recent memory._

_"Ba-ba-ba-ba."_

_Weller quickly turned his head towards the pack-n-play - and it's wide-awake occupant. At the sound of Kurt's movement, the boy looked up. Seeing Weller peering at him, the kid offered a gummy smile and more nonsense syllables._

_"Good morning to you, too." Kurt's voice was rough with sleep, but that didn't seem to bother the boy. The kid pushed up onto hands and knees and scooted closer to the mesh side, still babbling. With immense effort and concentration, the baby pushed up even further, settling back to sit. Weller rolled out of bed and looked down at the kid who had both arms up in the air - part request, part demand._

_It had been more than eight years since Kurt held a kid this young, but it was a bit like riding a bike. He scooped the child up and adjusted his grip until the kid felt secure. Brown eyes seriously studied Weller's face and a tiny hand came up to pat at Kurt's habitual stubble. The sensation must have tickled, because the boy let out a gurgle of laughter before continuing to poke at Weller's face. Kurt can't help but smile in return._

_"Good morning." Jane's voice came from the doorway, and both Weller and the kid turned their eyes towards her. Kurt thought that it was one of the best ways to start the day: seeing Jane smiling at him. At the moment, in fact, he couldn't think of anything better._

_Or, maybe it was the baby she was smiling at. It was probably the kid. After the things he'd said to her a week ago, he couldn't think of any reason why she'd be smiling at him._

_The kid seemed to agree that Jane was there just for him, and he reached out his arms towards Jane, kicking his legs in excitement. "Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!" He said emphatically._

_Jane came further into the room, holding out her hands for the child. "Morning to you, too, monkey."_

_Kurt allowed Jane to take possession of the kid. "I'm sorry." It was the first thing he could think to say. "I didn't mean to fall asleep last night."_

_Jane shook her head and brushed off the apology. "I think you needed it. Besides, we're friends, right?" Before Weller could respond, Jane started back towards the door. "There's breakfast, if you're hungry." She paused and looked back over her shoulder at him. "Come out to the kitchen whenever you're ready." And then she was gone._

They'd had just enough time to finish a simple breakfast - bagels and fruit for the adults, bananas, yogurt, and Cherrios for the baby - when Patterson called with an update. She scraped together crumbs of evidence to determine that the adoption agency was, for the most part, legitimate. There was a small group of employees, though, who took "special orders" from wealthy clients. To fill those orders, the suspects would identify and abduct children who had the characteristics the clients requested.

The remainder of the day was spend rounding up the members of group responsible and compiling information about the abducted children and the families that had purchased them. Proving that there was no honor among thieves, the suspects were practically falling over themselves cooperate with the Feds and to implicate the others.

As a perfect capper, the boy was finally identified - seven month old Lorenzo Fuller - and was reunited with his frantic parents.

Weller saw Jane frowning thoughtfully after the Fullers as they were escorted to the elevator. "Is everything okay," he asked with concern.

Jane offered him a sad smile and explained. "I was thinking about the other kids that were sold. They are going back to their families, and that's good, but," she shook her head. "I can't help but think about how hard the adjustment will be for them - especially the older ones."

Kurt sighed. It was something that had crossed his mind as well. The kids were caught between the greed of the criminals and the clients who used their wealth to dictate the qualities of the children they adopted. Lacking any profound insights, he touched her arm and said, "let me take you home."

They were quiet on the ride, and the silence seemed grow heavier as they got closer to the safe house. Weller parked and stilled for a moment, still not saying a word. Jane made no move to exit the vehicle. How did she know that Kurt was working his way around to something?

"Can I come in for a minute, Jane?" That sentence was agony to choke out. Weller _knew_ they needed to talk. _He_ needed to talk. He couldn't shake the conviction that their conversation would confirm that he had lost something precious to him.

The thought made him sick.

Jane led the way into the house. Without asking, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles of water. She handed one to Kurt. Then she settled on the couch and looked at him expectantly.

Ill at ease, Weller sat stiffly on the arm chair closest to Jane.

The silence continued to press down.

Putting off the inevitable, Kurt picked up a soft purple rabbit from the coffee table and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Jane smiled. "We made Reade pick up some supplies for Lorenzo. That was his choice."

Picturing his dapper team member picking out diapers and children's toys, Kurt chuckled. He stopped, feeling a bit foolish, when he noticed that Jane's smile had grown wider.

"It's good to see you smile," she confessed.

"Jane," he breathed, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why don't you hate me?"

"Weller," she protested, but he interrupted.

"After I said...after I told you..." Kurt found that he couldn't bring himself to repeat the final words he had spat at her before storming out of the office.

"After you told me that you didn't need me."

Weller nodded miserably and refused to meet her gaze.

"Is it true?"

Jane's tone was mild, but the question pained him. He shook his head and mouthed the word, "no." His tight throat wouldn't let any sound escape.

"It hurt." Jane admitted. "Hearing you say that I didn't know what you were going through, that I couldn't be what you needed," Kurt couldn't stop shaking his head. He wanted to cover his ears, to stop listening to Jane repeat his deliberately cruel words.

She reached out and captured one of his hands. "Kurt, stop! Stop it, and listen to me." She waited a beat. "Are you listening?" Weller drew in a shuddering breath and finally nodded. "Good." With his hand in her grasp, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on his skin, she continued. "I knew you were hurting, and I wanted to help. What I didn't pay attention to was you asking me to back off. That wasn't fair and I'm sorry. Yes, you fought back, and you fought back mean. So, neither one of us made the kindest choices. I am sorry. I was so focused on your pain that I ignored the fact that I was making it worse."

"Jane, no." Kurt finally found his voice again. "You didn't make anything worse."

Jane looked unconvinced, but she let him continue without debating the issue.

"Losing my dad," the jumble of words in his head didn't want to come out. "I felt so," was there really a word that would encompass the loss, the regret, the anger at the unfairness of it all? "If I'd let you get close, I would have grabbed on and maybe," a gasp of air to feed his burning lungs, "I might never," another wheezing gulp of air, "let go."

Jane shot to her feet and, with his hand still held in hers, tugged Kurt up, too. Her face was grim with hurt for him and she pulled him into her arms. His resistance crumbled after a moment and his arms wrapped around her. He knew he was holding on too tightly, that he would crush her if he didn't get a grip on his emotions, but that voice of reason was ignored by the instinct that had finally taken over. Kurt still felt stunned...appalled...when a sob welled up from the soles of his feet. He slouched to press his face against her shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds of his despair. He _had_ tried to lock it away, had managed to ignore it for a week, but now that it had broken free, he was helpless to control it.

Jane stood strong under the onslaught, her hands rubbing circles on his back, allowing him to cling with a weakness he hadn't shown to anyone in his adult life.

How long did they stand there? How long did Kurt cling helplessly to Jane? Maybe it was days, even weeks, later when his punishing sobs finally stopped. When his hold on Jane loosened, she shifted, sliding around to his side. She escorted him into her bedroom. Kurt felt so hollow, so drained that he didn't bother to resist. At another time, he would have been conscious of the humiliation. At the moment, though, he didn't have the energy to worry about it.

Jane pushed him down gently to sit on the edge of the bed and quietly reassured him, "I'll be right back." Before she backed away, she pulled some tissues from the box on her bedside table and pressed them into his hand.

Grateful for the momentary solitude, Kurt mopped at his face and threw the used tissues away.

Then Jane was back. She set a glass of water on the table next to him and lifted his chin with gentle fingers. His eyes slid closed as she soothed his face with a warm, wet washcloth. As exhausted as he felt, he'd be content to sit here forever like this. Sadly, though, Jane finished her ministrations. He sighed and opened his eyes again. She smiled at him, a small, sweet lift of her lips, and smoothed a hand down his cheek before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

"Jane? What," the question died on his lips as she pulled the shirt up.

"Arms up, Weller," her tone was firm, and he meekly obeyed. She draped his shirt on the bed and grabbed his hands to pull him to his feet again.

"Jane."

Her big green eyes looked up at him, but she didn't stop her fingers from unbuckling his belt. "Trust me," a plea that he could not ignore. She helped him strip down to his boxers before she led him to the bathroom and handed him a toothbrush.

By the time he wandered back into her bedroom, she'd turned down the bed and changed into a too large t-shirt and shorts. Seeing him hovering near the doorway, she reached out a hand. A moth to a flame, Kurt crossed to her. She pulled him closer to the bed and waited while he settled down on the side closest to the door. She pulled the covers up over his large frame and leaned over to press a kiss to his temple. He let his eyes slip closed once again, but he didn't let himself slip into sleep. Not until Jane returned from her own trip to the bathroom. She smelled simply of soap, mint, and Jane as she climbed into bed next to him. He turned over and she snuggled back against him, spooning. The empty feeling was slowly being replaced by a warmth centered around Weller's heart. He gave a long, slow sigh and gave into the pull of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Weller cry. I feel awful about it. Weller doesn't cry. He just doesn't. Sorry, Weller! Please don't hurt me. ;0)


End file.
